Wolfbloom
by Crimsonberry255
Summary: A short story from the perspective of the lady balverine that attacked Barry Hatch during the Masquerade. Slight Reaver/Barry Hatch.


Wolfbloom

She was the new girl.  
>Her begging and pleading had gotten her no distance with them. They kept telling her it was fine, and she was ready.<br>Deep inside, the feeling nagged, like a dream that lingers with you when you wake.  
>She did not know how to control it, yet.<br>They would not listen.  
>The lovely, fake smiles and hair piled high was what greeted her that day. Dressings made from the finest imported silk, leather, and sateen.<br>Do not worry, her sister reassured her as her mask was placed on her make-up painted face.  
>Nobody will know who you are. Even if something happens, your face will be hidden among them. You can disappear into the crowd. She nodded, feeling slightly lightened in spirits. She smiled with her rouge lips, going to an elegant party. Then, she met him.<br>The Master s butler and companion.  
>He took one glance at her and was practically at her heels, begging for her name.<br>He kissed her hand softly, his differently colored eyes holding mischief captive inside.  
>He was improper.<br>That was the word her dead mother would have used for him.  
>He looked at her as if he could see through the mask, leading her to the main ballroom. There, stood the master of the house, Reaver, in all his glory.<br>His handsome face and charming smile brought a blush to her covered cheeks. She went to thank him for the evening and he gave her a smile meant only for her. She took the memory and locked it away, safe and sound, her heart thumping loudly against her bosom.  
>Then the party had become peculiar. After the usual festivities of drinking and dining, a pair of rebels had broken in, disguised as guests. Master Reaver had been prompt in showing them that they were only playthings.<br>It was an arena, filled with monsters and greedy men of various kinds. He would spin the large clockwork dial, like he was a god deciding their fate. Every time, they had destroyed the competitors.  
>She did not know if she was amused by this sort of sport, but kept her distaste off of her face. She remained contemplative and silent.<br>Him.  
>He saw her again.<br>Groped her posterior through her dress and pulled her close by the hip, twirling her around elegantly.  
>He smiled like a cat playing with a mouse.<br>But she was no mouse.  
>Oh, not at all.<br>She felt it, the blood rising inside. The anger.  
>The fear.<br>It was slowly drowning out the confident chatter of Reaver and his annoying associate.  
>She heard more than felt the clothing rip beneath her, seams undone and corset bursting. The fur grew as her bones cracked into a new alignment.<br>The thrill of the hunt and revenge was upon her.  
>The man was now the mouse, her predator brain knew.<br>It took her no time to leap upon him, growling and sinking her jaws into his neck, warm skin breaking into rich muscle and warm blood.  
>He screamed over and over, like music to her ears.<br>Who was afraid now?  
>Who was the master of the hunt?<br>She was.  
>Tearing herself aside from the corpse, she looked down at the impostors trapped on the lower floor. The pulse of the man beneath her was now gone. She jumped down to find another heartbeat.<br>More.  
>More blood.<br>Her brothers and sisters of the hunt followed her, hungry at the smell of fresh blood. They flew upon the two fighters in a flurry of teeth and claws, sheer power keeping the two off balance.  
>Too soon she felt the cold silver blade and pressure of broken holes of skin. It spilled her blood onto her fur, dripping to the dirtied tile floor. She collapsed, looking up to the handsome Reaver.<br>Just one more smile before she left.  
>But instead, he had lifted her victim from the floor, cradling him strongly in his smoothed the man s hair back with his fingers, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. He looked down to her with a knowing grin. He knew things she did not.<br>The man...that had smiled so sweetly at her.  
>Had he...planned this?<br>His eyes showed no passion for her, just fleeting interest and satisfaction.  
>She had always been the mouse.<br>He was more than a cat.  
>Something more sinister.<br>More wise than she would ever hope to contemplate. With his small regard, she feel into cold darkness, watching him flick a bullet away from one of the human s guns like it was a toy.  
>A toy...like her. <p>


End file.
